


Whispers

by winternacht



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Mind Meld, Not Canon Compliant, Other: See Story Notes, Uninformed Consent, Vague Spoilers for episode 106 in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/pseuds/winternacht
Summary: Things go just a little too smoothly.





	Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> Recent revelations about Elias' powers gave me the idea that he might be transferring his mind piece by piece to an unaware Martin, resulting in some kind of mind-meld/not-quite-possession situation.

It wasn’t the way Martin had set out to do things. The thought occurred to him so suddenly that he almost felt dizzy, and he wondered if it really only had to do with the way his breath caught at the sight of Jon lying naked before him, looking up impatiently, waiting for Martin to enter him. When had he decided to leave the bed and assume this position?

He clutched one of Jon’s legs tightly while he tried to line himself up properly. Jon let his head fall back down onto the mattress, and for a second, Martin feared it was because he was exasperated with his clumsy fumbling. He hadn’t done this in a while, and the acute sense of disorientation did not help.

What Martin considered shameful ineptness, however, yielded a surprisingly desirable result. It was a pleasant realisation, that the way he circled his tip at the edge of Jon’s hole, not applying enough pressure to breach him, had Jon writhing beneath him. With need, Martin dared to hope, as he took in the bunched-up sheets in Jon’s hands, the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the twitching of his muscles as he tried to push up against Martin.

The surge of confidence allowed him to repeat the motion with some firmer, more deliberate pressure. Then he finally pushed in. He moved slowly, half of a mind to stop mid-way to give Jon more time to adjust even with the thorough preparation before, but his hips seemed to move on their own accord, and he continued smoothly until his pelvis met Jon’s. Martin could feel Jon shiver as his body clutched him tight.

“Are you okay? Is it too much?” Martin asked as he grasped Jon’s other leg, unable to keep the higher notes that betrayed his nervousness out of his voice.

“Yeah,” Jon simply replied, drawing out the sound, rough and needy, and Martin’s hips gave a slight twitch that made Jon gasp. _A good sign_ , Martin told himself and tried to relax. So he began.

From his elevated position, he could see clearly see the effect even the slightest movement had on Jon. Martin watched his lips part as he inhaled shaky breaths when he nearly pulled out; watched his eyes squeeze shut as he pushed back inside; relished the way Jon’s face relaxed with bliss when he was filled again, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

The rhythm was steady. Methodical. He fucked Jon slow and deep, testing his own self-restraint and soon finding himself breathless with the effort. Yet he did not switch to the faster thrusts he craved, not even when he saw the sweat shine on Jon’s forehead, when he watched Jon’s lips move with unformed pleas that came out as quiet moans.  

On a whim, he raised Jon’s hips a little, changing the angle ever so slightly, and after a well-aimed push, Martin stilled to take in the effect it had on Jon. He could feel it so well, how Jon pushed back at him, how his legs pulled him closer, uncompromising and strong, restricting his movements in a way that had him bite his lip and grip Jon tighter. Martin worried he might leave bruises, but the thought gave him a strange thrill as well.

The pace remained slow, but Martin put more force into the now shorter thrusts, listening attentively to every sound Jon made, the way his moans broke into yells when Martin hit the right spot.

“Don’t,” Martin said with a softness he hardly believed he could muster in this situation when Jon raised his hand to reach for his cock. His fingers twitched uncertainly.

“Let me, Jon,” he continued, pleased with how the name sounded on his lips, how Jon’s eyes fluttered shut when he said it. Gone was the nervous pitch, replaced by a lower, darker tone. And Jon obeyed, burying his fingers into the sheets again.

“But not yet.”

Martin hadn’t actually planned on drawing it out much longer. He was too close. But there was something he wanted, something he ached for, and it was more than just the release. It was a strange feeling, one that had him thrusting into Jon harder and faster as he was searching. Martin wanted to reach for him.

_Not yet._

It was nearly too much. Martin’s movements got more erratic, and he was about to close his eyes and let go. _Not yet._ The only thing that kept him from doing so was this odd feeling of dissatisfaction, of something missing.

Soon, he found it when he looked down at Jon, at his plump cock lying heavy against his stomach, dripping pleasure over his skin. He found it in Jon’s gaze, eager and desperate and full of need. And he found it in Jon’s voice when he finally begged for release, a breathless repetition of the one word he’d waited to hear.

Martin barely managed two strokes before Jon came all over his fist, back arching off the mattress. And it was the sight rather than the sensations of Jon’s body shuddering and squeezing around him that had Martin follow him over the edge.

A tear trickled down Jon’s left temple as his face relaxed, and Martin watched, fascinated, as it soaked into the sheets.

Something prickled at Martin’s neck, a feeling not unlike being watched, and Martin looked over his shoulder anxiously, nearly dropping Jon’s legs onto the bed. There was nobody. He turned back again; Jon hadn’t noticed, eyes still closed. He looked serene, and Martin did not want to destroy the moment with his weird worries.

Martin leaned down carefully, seeking to kiss Jon, but stopped short of his lips when he felt it again. It was like a caress against his neck, down to his shoulder, tender, proud. _You did well, Martin._

Elias’ voice was loud in his mind, drowning out his thoughts, the soft sounds of breathing around him, his own heartbeat that hammered in his ears.

Jon opened his eyes. He frowned

“Martin?”


End file.
